He is sleeping again, as is so often for the boy with those dark chocolate eyes and messy bronze tinted hair. Though today he is not lounging in a hotel room, but instead under a park bench on the south side of town, his head remains under the table inside the shade while his fluffy, fox like tail remains in the sun, gathering all the warmth he cares to have. The boy was a glutton for the sun. And, if the tail wasn't clear enough, instead of napping in his human form, Marcelo has found comfort as his were animal today. The snoozes deeply, content to lay underneath the bench for the majority of the day, the lazy boy. It is only as the sun slows begins to make its way behind the trees of the forest that Marcelo stirs from his sleep. Blinking blurry eyes open as his mouth emits a large yawn, each of his sharp teeth showing before they fall closed once more, the taste of sleep evident on his taste buds. His eyes are no longer that dark chocolate color, instead they glow golden, though if you look closely enough, there is a glint of humor and mischief within them as if he were ever ready to jump at the change to cause any sort of trouble he could manage to get away with.

His tiny ears begin to flicker back and forth atop his head, catching the noises of the ending day and the impending night. His paws stretch out in front of him as he moves those sleep worn limbs, stretching his back toes before he raises his reddish tinted head, his nose tastes the still warm air of a summer night, but the taste of food comes on the wind. There is the smallest stench of iron, there was an animal nearbyâ€"and it was weak. It sounded like the perfect opportunity.

Paws are near silent as they move off, while Marcelo jests and jokes nearly constantly (read: always) when he hunted in were form, the predatory side took over him and a hyper focus crafted his mind to narrow in on his single target. He slips around the area of the playground, the scent growing stronger and strong upon his nose until he sees a patch of tawny brown ahead of him, gnawing away on some the summer grasses and flowers that grew rampant on the children's playground area. Sharp, predatory eyes could see the cut on the animal's leg, and while it did not howl or writhe in pain how Marcelo typically liked his animals to be, the injury would certainly slow the creature down enough that Marcelo would be able to catch his prey without expelling too much energy. (Lazy.) His heightened sense were kicking in, senses he typically chose to ignore in his humor form, but when the animal in him came out to play, Marcelo left nothing out.

Like a hungry wolf, Marcelo moves from the shadows of the playground, his reddish tinted ears twitch atop his head, attempting to catch any sounds that may travel his way. Dark nose twitches with the scent of live prey. He can nearly taste it on his tongue as he steadily continues to move forward. But then, a disturbance and the rabbit springs forward like a coil. Something akin to a scowl comes over the jackal's face before he rushes forward in hot pursuit of his meal. Nails dig into the ground like soccer cleats gaining him better leverage, better speed. A savage growl in annoyance hits his mouth. He had wanted an easy meal, running around like a fool had certainly not been his intention this evening. Even before the rabbit burrows itself under a shrub, Marcelo knew this hunt would be a failure. He had been too far away to be able to catch the rodent, if the disturbance had not occured, Marcelo would have had the fluffy little bunny, but now he had nothing.

Golden eyes scan over the area, looking for the source of the interruption, he would have a sharp biting waiting for whoever created it. But it as his gaze looks around that he feels a sharp pain dig into his shoulder. Marcelo is aware of the it is without even having to look over. Silver. A dark hunter had found him. And really, it has been far too long since Marcelo had played this game, he could use the entertainment.

"I got a shot to his shoulder," a gruff voice brags to whoever he was with, most likely another dark hunter. Well, the more the merrier. A rumbling growl echoes through his throat and slithers through his teeth, attempting to stay quiet. The pain in his shoulder was excruciating, but he could still move quickly, which was going to be necessary to get away from the hunter tag team. This was certainly not Marcelo's first time evading hunters, they had been chasing him nearly five centuries now and every time they have tried to catch him, the jackal has evaded them. He kicks his speed up a notch and tears through the playground. While the bullet hurt, it would not kill him, Marcelo has proved to be quite difficult to kill thus far, and one lousy silver bullet certainly would not do it.

They have tried many different methods over the years. Perhaps Marcelo's favorite had been the spear made of silver, and they would try to stab Marcelo with it as if they were picking up trash, so easy it had been to avoid them and their sharp sticks. The hunters really have made a great challenge for the jackal because lets face it, when you are immortal, life can get pretty dull without the looming shadow of death hanging around your shoulder. Maybe that is why the jackal boy found so much fun to be had with his immortal Dark Hunter counter parts, constantly chasing after one another, trying to find a way to end one another's lives. Though the whole hunting thing was really one sided, Marcelo has neither the focus nor the drive to track down Dark Hunters. The boy doesn't work hard at anything unless it is trying to finish off a bottle or a six pack, or to do more drugs than everyone else at the party. The boy was not entirely without ambition, he just lacked any sort of direction.

As he approaches the woods, he makes a quick turn and ducks into the cover of the trees. Still in jackal form, he feels his sides breathing heavily, but he quiets himself as he feels the rattle of footsteps causing the ground to vibrate. They were close, closer, closerâ€"and then the vibrations grow lighter, until eventually, they fade all together.

They were gone, they never even saw him.
Idiots.

Marcelo sits behind a tree and slowly his body begins to displace itself. Bones moving in different directions, nose shortening, amber eyes become and earthen color, as coarse dog-like hair becomes tanned skin, the only hair remaining is the bronzed hair atop his head. As a grin now moves onto his handsome, if not boyish face. His smirk is wicked as he lays there against the rough bark of the tree, it cuts into his skin, though while others may have balked at the texture, Marcelo lets his back lay against it. He sits only in his navy blue boxer briefs, a real shame since he had rather liked the clothes he had worn today, but Marcelo could never predict what would happen to his clothes when he transformed, sometimes he got to keep his clothes, sometimes he was stark naked, and other times, like now, only in his knickers.

Just then, the pain seared his shoulder as Marcelo raised up his hand, the bullet was still lodged in there, he could feel it almost burning him from the inside out as he attempts to reach his fingers into the wound, only to feel a violent pain fling his hand out of the hole in his shoulder, shaking his fingers, trying to cool them off. Okay, so that didn't work. What does he do now?

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